


Christmas Eve (stuck) in the Lab

by LostinFic



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Christmas, Christmas Party, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:40:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 13,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27896938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostinFic/pseuds/LostinFic
Summary: Dr. John Smith and Rose Tyler both work at the Natural History Museum in London, he as a scientist in the labs, and she as a salesgirl in the gift shop. They are only friends, but the upcoming staff Christmas party promises developments they’ve both been longing for.However, before they can leave the lab to attend the party, an ancient pathogen from a prehistoric reindeer causes a lockdown.John, Rose, Martha, Donna and Jack all get stuck together in the laboratory. Shenanigans ensue: decontamination showers, cocktails in beakers, a game of truth-or-dare and a Secret Santa rigged by meddling friends.(N.B. Explicit rating applies only to the last chapter which you can skip if that's not your thing.)
Relationships: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler, The Doctor (Doctor Who)/Rose Tyler
Comments: 154
Kudos: 144





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely based on a Christmas episode of _Bones_ , season 1, “The Man In The Fallout Shelter”. Oddly enough, I started writing this last year, before lockdowns were part of our daily lives. It’s really just an excuse to get these two pining idiots stuck together. No pandemic here, only fluff (well, for the most part).
> 
> Many thanks to onthedriftinthetardis for the excellent beta. Turns out, _Bones_ got a lot of things wrong about museums, which Nik pointed out and provided great solutions for. Some of those inaccuracies I chose not to correct for the sake of fun. I hope this won’t impede anyone’s enjoyment of this fic. 
> 
> CW: alcohol, mentions of Jimmy Stone-related fuckery, past grief

**May**

Rose got off the bus in South Kensington and nearly ran into a passerby.

“Rose?”

“Shareen?” She barely recognized her old friend, she looked so grown-up with her cinched trench coat and laptop bag. “How are you?”

“I’m great. I’m on my way to uni. Last exam of the semester, and then graduation.” She crossed her fingers with a hopeful smile.

“That's brilliant. Congratulations.”

“Thanks. And you?”

“Oh, I’ve a job interview.”

One look at Rose’s jeans and hoodie told Shareen the kind of job it might be. One that didn't require a degree.

Rose lowered her head and bunched her sleeves over her hands.

_You were right about Jimmy_ , Rose wanted to say, _I shouldn’t have chosen him over my friends_.

“We should do something, sometime,” Shareen said, her smile conveyed pity rather than affection.

Rose nodded, though she knew it wouldn’t happen. They wished each other good luck and went in opposite directions.

As soon as she had her back to Shareen, she lost her smile. _That could’ve been me too_ , she thought. She shook her head; _nah, I wasn’t made for university_.

Around the corner, the Natural History Museum loomed, cathedral-like, with its two towers framing the main hall and the large arch above the entrance. On the East and West wings, two storeys of Romanesque windows reflected the grey sky. Lions, bats, wolves and pterodactyls carved in stone looked down at her from their perches on the facade.

Rose avoided their stony glares.

She was interviewing to work in the gift shop, no reason to feel intimidated by this great institution.

She took a deep breath, then entered the Museum.

In Hintze hall, the skeleton of a blue whale hung from the ceiling, suspended mid-swim, gigantic yet tranquil. Underneath, groups of school children walked single file, bumping into each other, distracted by the grandiose hall. Clusters of visitors, map in hand, planned their visit and photographed each other.

Something about the echo of footsteps and chatter, and the way sunlight streamed through the glass roof took her right back to her childhood. Even then, she knew Jackie brought her here so often because it was free. They would spend hours here in winter, leaving the flat unheated to save on electricity. But she didn’t care, she loved it.

Tears pricked her eyes as she remembered how curious and full of wonder she used to be as a child. She longed to be that girl again.

Oh, but she really wanted to get this job now.

* * *

Standing in a corner of the gift shop, Lilian, the manager, gave Rose’s resume a cursory look.

“Band manager? For three years?”

“Yes, I booked gigs in clubs, oversaw the budget of the tours, and managed the promotional merchandise.”

And did all the laundry and the cooking and the cleaning, turned a blind eye to his drugs and alcohol use, and believed him when he said the other girls didn’t mean anything to him. 

Three years of living for someone else’s dreams.

“Your last job was at Henrick’s. Only six months. Why did you stop working there?”

Rose mimed an explosion.

To be honest, she might have blown up the place herself if someone else hadn’t beat her to it. Bunch of snobs, they were.

“Oh, right.” Lilian laughed and placed a check mark on her form. “Now let’s see your customer service skills.”

Unbeknownst to Rose, the museum, a centuries-old, respected institution dedicated to science was home to one messy-haired, Converse-wearing, chaotic genius who loved a little shop.

“Oh no, not him,” Lilian said, but too late, Rose was already walking toward him with a big smile on.

“Hello—” she eyed the badge attached to the breast pocket of his lab coat— “Doctor. How may I help you today?”

He was scanning a display of rubber figurines. He grabbed two miniatures of prehistoric mammals.

“They’re two for one,” she tried.

“What was the smilodon doing on the territory of the diprotodon?”

He moved the tiger-like figurine toward the bear-like one. He stared at them as if they would talk to him and reveal their secrets.

Rose bit her thumbnail. Did he really expect an answer? Was this part of the interview?

“Maybe he was looking for food?” she ventured.

“Kilometres away from his home?”

“I’d walk miles for the best chips.”

He grinned and looked at her, properly, for the first time. There wasn’t a trace of mockery in his smile, only genuine delight. She found herself smiling back.

Suddenly, he gasped.

“Yes! Chips!”

He spun on his heels and rushed out of the shop.

Lilian patted Rose on the shoulder. “I don’t know how you did that, but you’re hired.”

“I think I just let him just steal those figurines.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll put it on his tab.”

Rose sighed with relief and thanked Lilian.

“So, who was that?”

“Doctor John Smith, he’s the research leader at the Ancient DNA lab. The youngest one in the lab’s history, I’m told, hired before he’d even finished his doctorate.”

“Really? He’s a nutter.”

“Oh yeah, but harmless overall.”

* * *

Over the months following Rose’s hiring, the frequency of the Doctor’s visits to the shop increased. Her coworkers even began to tease her about it.

He would show up and babble about multiplex sequencing of mitochondrial genomes or rant about sample degradation of human remains in the field.

Rose didn’t understand everything but got a kick out of his wild gesticulation and experiments with items from the shop. She would ask him questions, and sometimes they would be the right ones to help him out.

Although she was becoming fast friends with many museum employees, of all her new acquaintances, the Doctor was her favourite.

She didn’t know him — not really. But what she knew, she liked. She liked the way he treated everyone with respect, from the janitors to the curators. Although he had his moments of bad mood and anger, he found joy in every little thing. It was contagious. They spurred each other on, it seemed. They raced wind-up toys from the shop after hours, gave silly names to specimens in the exhibitions, pranked the tour guides and hid treats for the kids staying overnight for Dino-snores. But that’s the thing, they only ever saw each other at the museum. The closest thing to a date they had was attending the same lecture one night in November. His hand had brushed hers on the armrest.

She would be lying if she said she wasn’t disappointed on days he didn’t show up. But Rose refused to read more into his behaviour than there was. She had made that mistake before, seeing love where it wasn’t, and stayed in an unhealthy relationship. So, until proven otherwise, the Doctor was just an eccentric bloke who came to her when he was bored or stuck.


	2. Martha

_**December 23rd** _

In a laboratory of the Darwin Center, under a high glass ceiling, John worked at one of the stations surrounding the examination area.

“It’s impossible,” he mumbled, examining a cellular sample.

Next to him, Martha, his intern, looked into the eyepiece of the microscope as if it would reveal something different from the last 100 times she had looked.

Such a mystery usually excited John, but he was flying to South America tomorrow, and couldn’t bear to leave it unsolved.

He ruffled his hair with a groan.

“Well, tonight might help take our minds off this problem,” Martha said, scooting closer to him with her rolling stool. “At the staff party. We can have a drink. Maybe… dance.”

“Rose would know,” he said. “Right now she’d ask exactly the right thing.”

He sprang to his feet and left, white lab coat flapping behind him. In his haste, he nearly knocked down Donna. The red-haired lab manager was just coming in with a report he needed to sign.

“Oi! Rocket man! Slow down!” She turned to Martha. “Where’s he going?”

“Where do you think?”

“The gift shop?… Still hasn’t got a clue, has he?”

“None whatsoever,” Martha replied with a forlorn sigh.

No matter her stellar grades, the many extra hours she spent in the lab or how well she edited his scientific articles, it wasn’t enough for Doctor Smith. He did praise her work, but it never went beyond that. And lately, he preferred the assistance of a shopgirl. If Martha were to show up stark naked in his office, he would still find a way to not notice her.

“What have you got going there, Martha?”

Donna inspected a contraption hidden under the workbench: a large metal tub with a tube sticking out of it.

“You know those ancient grains we found in permafrost, in Greenland?” Martha said. “Well, we were able to clone them, and now I’m doing the only logical thing.”

“Which is?”

“Fermentation and distillation.”

“Alcohol?”

Martha grinned. “Fancy an eggnog? For science.”

“For science,” Donna echoed.

Martha filled two mugs with some store-bought eggnog mix and spiked it with Neolithic gin.

The first sip made Donna grimace. “That’s the ticket. Cheers!”


	3. Giftshop

Rose wound a string of multicolored lights around the neck of a seven-foot-tall Diplodocus plushie. She plugged it in and smiled at the result.

The Dino Store was her favourite of the four gift shops to work at. She loved seeing kids excited by their discovery of the ancient beasts.

Behind her, two boys were fighting over a paleontologist costume.

“Excuse me, miss, do you have another one of these?” the exasperated father asked.

Rose nipped over to the backstore where she scanned the shelves full of stickers, figurines, t-shirts and puzzles, all dinosaur-themed.

“I don’t have another one, but I found this cool dinosaur eggs excavation kit.”

“I want it!” both boys shouted.

The father relented; he didn’t have time to shop for other gifts.

As they headed to the cash register, a familiar lanky figure entered the shop. Although his hair always stood up, today, it was particularly messy which gave her a hint as to why he was coming in.

The Doctor opened his mouth to speak. She interrupted him with a pointed look. He scowled, but let her finish attending the customers.

“So, you boys enjoyed your day at the Museum?” She asked as she rang the purchases. “Maybe one day you can work here too.”

The youngest’s eyes widened. “In the Dino Store!”

Rose laughed. “I meant in the labs, but sure, you can work in the shop too.”

“You’d have to move here first,” the father said, patting the boy’s head. “And finish school.”

“Where are you from?” Rose asked.

“We’re living in Shanghai right now. Came back to see family.”

“Oh, I’d love to go there one day.”

She said that to every customer from abroad, which didn’t make it any less true. For Rose, meeting citizens from other countries was one of the perks of working in a major tourist attraction.

She handed his purchases back to the father and wished them a happy Christmas.

As soon as they had left, the Doctor hopped on the counter, next to the till.

“Hello, Rose Tyler.”

“Hello, Doctor. You’re stuck, aren’t you?”

“Yep.”

“Well, go on, what is it?”

She leaned forward, chin in hand. Weirdly enough, she was starting to understand more and more his rambling speeches full of scientific— and possibly made-up— jargon.

The sample he was currently examining seemed to come from two different genuses. 

“Isn’t that the same problem you had with the Liopleurodon last month?” she asked. “You could use the same test.”

“Nah, they’re two completely different things… then again, might be worth a try.”

He didn’t bolt out the door as he normally would after a breakthrough. She feared he was only humouring her.

He stared at his hands, then at her.

“What?” she asked.

He tapped the tip of her elf hat, where it curved near her cheek, making the bell at its end tinkle. She smiled at him, and he smiled in return, but there was something not quite right about it that she couldn’t decipher.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah. I’m always alright.”

Her phone rang before she could investigate further. 

“Hey, Mickey.”

Mickey’s girlfriend had left him recently, and she’d just updated her relationship status on Facebook. She listened to his fulminations, just like he had listened to her after Jimmy left. Of all her old friends, Mickey was the only one who’d kept in touch.

Rose smiled apologetically to the Doctor. 

He hopped off the counter and fiddled with the sparkly pen on display, twirling and catching one. Something was up with him. 

After hanging up, she tried asking, “What are you doing for the holidays?” 

“Same old. You?”

“The usual,” she answered, mimicking his evasiveness.

She couldn’t help but notice he wasn’t showing the same enthusiasm for Christmas as he had for Halloween, or even for Diwali and Bonfire Night, for that matter.

“So, what is that old thing you’ll be doing the same of?” she persisted.

“Travelling.”

“You have family outside London, then?”

He nodded, sort of.

She told him about cousin Mo’s Christmas party. It was always a big bash; nowadays she couldn’t tell anymore which of the guests were blood relatives or family friends.

Jimmy had always refused to come with her to family gatherings. More often than not, she would decide to stay with him instead. In hindsight, she realized all the subtle ways in which he would make her feel bad until she changed her mind.

She wouldn’t miss another one of Mo’s party, even though she dreaded some of the questions the older guests would inevitably ask. How could she begin to explain to someone she only met once a year that, yes, she was still working in a shop— no, a different shop— but it was an improvement: she had new friends, she was learning new things every day, and she didn’t feel so useless and hopeless anymore?

She must’ve been silent for too long because John jostled the bell of her hat again. He was now leaning on the counter too. She could see every lash on his pale eyelids and every freckle on his narrow nose.

Her breath came a little quicker.

“How long will you be gone travelling?” she asked.

“Three weeks.”

She felt a pinch to her heart.

“Oh… That’s a long time.”

“Yeah.”

There was something serious and tense between them unlike she had ever felt with him.

_Say you’ll miss me._

“Anyway.” John straightened up and buried his hands in his pockets. “I should…”

And just like that, he left.


	4. A special delivery

“Look, if you take into account all believers of the myth, factor in time zones, rotation of the Earth, assume Santa travels east to west, he'd have to make approximately 6 visits per second to reach every child,” the Doctor rambled on. “So Santa parks his sleigh, unloads presents, fills stockings, eats cookies, drinks milk, gets back into his sleigh and is on to the next house in about seventeen hundredths of a second? Children have to be stupid to accept that.”

“Okay, first of all, children are not stupid, they're just children,” Donna replied, fists on hips. “Secondly, Santa is magic.”

The Doctor huffed. Donna loved to rile him up. She followed him to another work station.

“Thirdly, just because it’s fiction doesn’t mean you can’t come to the staff party. Please. Friends don’t let friends photocopy their bums.”

She was already dressed for the party in a purple wrap dress and high heels.

He pretended not to hear her, jotting down notes as he examined a mummified beaver.

“Rose will be there,” Donna added.

His head snapped up, eyes wide, like a meerkat coming out of its burrow.

It was Donna’s turn to pretend not to notice his reaction. She browsed through files without really seeing them, waiting for the moment he caved in and asked her about Rose.

Martha came in wearing a black dress and beaded headband. She cut short Donna’s moment of victory. 

“Why aren’t you coming anyway?” she asked.

“Early flight,” he answered, returning to his work.

“You don’t have to stay late or drink a lot. People will be glad to see you. What’s so terrible about a Christmas party?”

He sighed and focused on his work.

A minute later, there was a knock at the lab doors, offering a distraction from party talks. Donna let Rose in. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice an octave higher than usual.

She had never come to the lab, access was restricted.

“Donna said I could change here and leave my things in her office whilst we’re at the party.”

“The staff party?”

“I may not be a scientist, but I’m still part of the staff, thank you very much.”

“Yes, of course, I didn’t mean to imply— you’re part of the staff, an important part of it. The most important part of it, some would argue. What would the Museum be without a little shop?”

From their corner of the lab, Martha and Donna stifled their laughter.

“Are you going to the party before leaving, then?” Rose asked.

“Er, well…” He tugged on his earlobe.

“Yeah, Dr. Smith, are you coming to the party?” Donna asked with a knowing smirk.

“Wait, how do you two know each other?” he replied.

“I met Rose at the book club. You know the one you got kicked out of,” Donna explained.

“Michael Crichton had no right to write—“

“Oi! I’ll kick you out of this lab too.”

Donna escorted Rose to her office where she could change and do her makeup.

Meanwhile, the double doors of the lab flew open. John swore. If this was another person trying to get him to the party he was going to barricade those doors.

Jack Harkness rolled in with a flat dolly cart, feet on the cart like a kid at the supermarket. He was carrying in a big wooden crate with a red bow atop it (a red bow stolen from the decorations in the hall).

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” he exclaimed.

Both Donna and Martha squealed with delight and rushed to welcome him.

In one smooth move, he removed his high-tech winter coat, revealing his party outfit underneath: a red velvet jacket with white fur lapels parted to reveal his bare, muscular chest.

“Who gets to sit on Santa’s lap first?” He pulled a chair and sat down. “Doc? If you want your gift…”

Jack patted his lap, but John rushed right past him to reach the crate.

Jack worked as a liaison between the Museum and various field research teams across the UK and the world. In a way, he was like Santa, bringing them specimens and skeletons unearthed by paleontologists.

“What is it?”

“Guess.”

John glowered.

“It’s nothing, just a Megaloceros,” Jack answered. “So, when is this party starting?”

“What’s a Megaloceros?” Donna asked.

“An extinct genus of deer — lived through the early Pleistocene to the beginning of the Holocene,” John said.

“Uh?”

“It’s a dinosaur Rudolph,” Martha summed up.

“No, don’t you try and make this Christmas-y,” John threatened. “Besides Rudolph was a reindeer and this is in the elk family.”

“Rudolph the red-nosed Megaloceros,” she sang, rushing through the last word to make it fit in the melody.

With a crowbar, Jack removed the top of the crate. Glasses on, John studied the remains.

“Oh, it’s gorgeous!”

“Thank you,” Jack said with a wink.

John rolled his eyes. “Why isn’t this labelled? Which genus is it? It should be labelled.”

Jack shrugged.

That was odd.

“Stavropolensis? No, you’re not that old. Antecedens?” He snapped latex gloves on and picked up part of a massive antler. “Hmm bit too long, and curved… Pachyosteus, maybe? But those molars are thick, could be a matriensis. We’ll need to take some samples for identification. Donna!”

“Doc, the thing’s been dead for centuries, identification can wait until after Christmas.”

John squinted at Jack. “Why did they send it to me?”

“Because it’s your job. C’mon the party’s about to start.”

“Yes, Doctor, we’re going to spike the eggnog, dance to 80s music, and you—” Donna said, pointing at Jack— “will kiss me under the mistletoe.”

“I told you I’m not coming. Jack, if they sent it to me for identification, it’s because they couldn’t do it themselves. This could be a new genus of Megaloceros!”

The Doctor bounced excitedly and pushed the box towards the examination area at the centre of the lab. He cleared a large table to spread the bones.

Martha served more spiked eggnog to her colleagues as they watched John get to work.

“What’s with him and Christmas?” Martha asked Donna and Jack who’d known him for a longer time.

They both shrugged.

“He’s secretly the Grinch,” Jack joked.

There was something strange, reddish, on the nasal bone. With a small, stiff brush, John tried to remove it and drop the particles on a microscope slide. But the red substance turned into a fine, smoke-like dust that rose in the air, carried by a draft from the ventilation system.

John was so focused on his work that he didn’t notice Rose coming back until she was close to him.

Gone were Rose’s usual jeans, t-shirt and museum vest; she was dressed for the party in a simple but curve-hugging midnight-blue dress, glitter sprinkled across her cheeks and collarbones, red lips showcased a brilliant smile.

“Ready?” she asked.

John’s jaw dropped and an ancient femur slipped from his grasp. Rose tried to catch it. Martha tried to stop Rose. The bone hit the floor and shattered. A collective gasp echoed in the lab.

“Don’t touch it,” Donna yelled.

But too late, Rose had picked up some pieces. She gathered them in her arms. John took them from her. She sneezed and rubbed her eyes.

“Was it one of those feathered dinosaurs? ‘cause I’m allergic to birds,” she joked and sneezed again. But then she noticed the antlers. “Is that— ? Wait, don’t tell me.” She snapped her fingers, trying to jog her memory. He’d often caught her studying the books for sale at the Dino Store. “A Megaloceros?” she ventured.

“Yes!” he shouted, with more joy and pride than the moment warranted.

He squeezed Rose with a one-arm hug.

Martha rolled her eyes and gulped down the rest of her drink.

All around the lab, metal doors came down, blocking the entrances. The loud thuds made Rose and Jack jump. A staccato of clicks pealed around the lab.

“Bloody smoke detector,” Donna mumbled.

“It’s oversensitive,” John explained. “Closes those fire-proof doors all the time.”

But they were the only ones left in the lab, there wasn’t a flame or a wisp of smoke in sight.

Donna logged into the security system. “The in vivo biosensors picked up something… unknown particles in the ventilation system.”

Martha, Donna and John looked at each other, then their gazes bounced to the shatter bone, the red powder, the open mugs from which they’d drank, to Rose. 

“Doctor, looks like there’s still some marrow in those bones,” Martha said.

“What’s happening?” Rose asked, eyes wide with panic.

"Biological contamination. Decon shower— now!”

John grabbed her hand and tugged her toward a corner of the lab, to a stainless steel shower. He pushed her in with himself and pulled on a lever. A large yellow showerhead sprayed cold water over them.

Rose screeched.

“Strip!” he said as he pulled off his tie.

“What?!”

“I don’t know what was in those bones but it’s dangerous.”

He discarded his shirt.

The urgency in his voice convinced her. Rose didn’t protest further. She pulled up her dress.

The shower stall wasn’t made for two people. They bumped and elbowed each other in their haste to remove their clothes. Trousers, dress, bra and socks fell into a wet heap between them. Fear overpowered modesty.

They frantically scrubbed their skin and hair, even each other’s backs.

“Rinse your eyes and nose,” he instructed.

His heart was racing, as was his mind. What was that red dust? A spore? A fungus? Deadly viruses could survive centuries in permafrost. And what was that animal? Megaloceros had lived too long ago for bone marrow to remain and carry bacteria.

“Doctor?” Rose’s voice quivered with fear.

Mascara ran down her cheeks, she’d crossed her arms over her bare breasts. He teeth clattered.

What was he thinking letting her near him without proper precautions? He’d put her life in danger.

“I’m sorry, Rose, I’m so sorry.”

“How long do we have to stay in here?”

He shut off the water. He wrapped the only towel around her shoulders and rubbed her arms.

He caught her looking him up and down. Heat spread up his neck as their peculiar situation dawned on him.

“We’re naked.”

“I wish you’d taken me out on a date first,” Rose joked, but her laughter sounded strained.


	5. Hazmat suits

Rose didn’t grasp the severity of the situation until five people in hazmat suits showed up. She instinctively reached for her phone to call her mum, but decided against it— best not alarm her before knowing more. As they took samples, packaged the bones and decontaminated the area, her stomach twisted in a tighter and tighter knot. Of course cold water and a good scrub wasn’t enough to get rid of a virus.

Rose had put her work clothes back on (she’d been carrying an extra pair of knickers, just in case she spent the night elsewhere after the party, though the lab wasn’t what she had in mind).

John, on the other hand, didn’t have a change of clothes and now wore nothing but a lab coat held close tightly over his crotch. Donna said something about making a sexy nerd calendar for charity. John flustered, and Rose thought she would definitely buy that. She’d always found him cute, but now discovered he was actually quite fit under all the layers he wore. This was truly the only upside to this awful situation.

They all lined up, silent, head bowed, as Kate Stewart, the head of health and safety, paced the floor in front of them. 

“Until the particle caught by the sensor is identified, you all have to stay in here.”

“But tomorrow’s Christmas Eve,” Martha said.

“Yes, and medical laboratories are short-staffed this time of year, so cultivate your patience.”

“And I’m flying to South America,” John said.

Bit farther than outside London as he’d led her to believe, Rose thought.

“Do you wish to infect all the passengers?” Kate retorted.

“And I have a date with a cabin and a lovely couple in the Lake District,” Jack added.

“We’re not letting you out of here with a possibly contagious pathogen from the Jurassic era. For all we know, this thing wiped out dinosaurs.”

“Pleistocene era,” John corrected. “And that’s highly unlikely.”

“An outsider close to the specimen, four people without lab coats and gloves, beverages in open containers... Dr Smith, why weren’t you following protocol?”

John rubbed the back of his neck. “I was… distracted.”

All eyes turned to Rose, much to her confusion.

“You, amoeba,” Donna muttered.

“Amoeba?” Rose asked.

Martha explained, “it’s a single-cell organism,” 

“Like John’s brain,” Donna declared.

“Oi!” John protested. “And Jack why didn’t you inspect the skeleton before bringing it in?”

“Why did you have to get the bones out right away?” Jack retorted.

“If you hadn’t pestered me about that stupid office party— ”

“Excuse me for trying to cheer you up, Mr. Grinch,” Donna said.

“Hey!” Rose interrupted. “If we’re gonna be stuck together all night, maybe we should try to get along.”

They looked at each other sheepishly.

“I have snacks and Cards Against Humanity, we can have a bit of fun until it’s over,” she added.

“Without the eggnog, we’d have been more cautious,” Martha said.

“What eggnog?” Kate asked.

“It’s nothing, just a carton, from Tesco,” Jack said.

“Well, alcohol will show up in your blood test results anyway.”

Kate Stewart’s assistant administered broad-spectrum antibiotics and antifungal medicine as precaution for possible infection. “Be prepared for side effects.”

“Like what? Nausea, fever, insomnia, dizziness?” Martha said.

“And in very rare cases, euphoria, dream-state, mild hallucinations.”

“I'll take that, please,” Jack said.

Kate Stewart left them with sleeping bags and leftovers from one of the museum cafés— the best one, at least.

Music from the party drifted in as they looked around helplessly.

“Martha, tell me more about that eggnog,” Rose asked, looping her arm through the other girl’s.


	6. Truth or dare

After informing friends or family members, the gang settled in the break room situated in an open gallery overlooking the lab. The main lights had automatically shut down for the night, leaving only a few desk lamps below and the glowing glass column in the centre of the room. Through the large windows of the last floor, the festive London skyline twinkled.

The scent of disinfectant still lingered in the air.

“Why aren’t there any Christmas decorations?” Rose asked, noting again the difference with Halloween.

There were no baubles in the potted palms, no multicoloured lights along the railing, no seasonal centerpiece on the long conference table.

“Why do you think?” Donna replied, glaring at John.

“They’re a hazard!” he retorted.

“You’re a hazard.”

They started recounting all of John’s accidents in the lab from causing a power outage throughout the museum to blowing up an expensive piece of equipment. Though he scowled at first, eventually the Doctor joined in, retelling his own mishaps, some his friends didn’t even know about. 

“It’s pure luck you haven’t caused a lockdown before,” Jack teased.

Rose wasn’t sure where to sit. They obviously all had known each other for a good while, and she was intimidated by the number of degrees and IQ points they held between them.

Instead, she made herself useful. As it turned out, Martha’s ancient grain distillation experiment was good for more than eggnog. Rose gathered ingredients from around the lab: the break room fridge, work stations and cafeteria basket, and she mixed cocktails in (sanitized) beakers. Martha protested weakly, reminding them they’d taken antibiotics, but she was easily convinced.

“A sex-on-the-beach for me,” Jack said with a wink.

“You’re shameless,” she replied. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Jack was more than happy to walk around in his pants, having lent his trousers to John.

Once everyone had a drink in hand, Rose started clearing the table. John helped her out.

“So, is your family in South America?” she asked him. 

“Well, the Argentinosaurus sort of looks like my uncle Frank.”

“And I’ve got an aunt who looks like that prehistoric sloth in the east wing.”

“Auntie Megatherium.”

They laughed, and Rose forgot he hadn’t really answered her question.

John let her have the last place available on the orange couch, next to Martha. He sat cross-legged on the floor, by Rose’s feet. At first he reclined against the arm of the couch, but as he relaxed, he increasingly leaned against her legs. 

_He’s probably just tired_ , she reasoned. 

She let Donna prepare the next round of cocktail, content to stay here, on the edge of tipsy, gin-warmed blood, John’s weight against her legs, his bare, freckled shoulders near her fingertips.

They exchanged funny anecdotes about their childhood holidays, hilarity increased tenfold by the cocktails. Jack’s scandalous stories would never make it into a Hallmark movie.

Rose loved John’s laughter, the way he jerked forward and threw his head back, mouth open wide. It prompted her to tell more stories of Jackie, drunk on sherry, flirting with every Santa Claus on the street including a plastic one. 

After another of Donna’s hilarious stories about her grandfather Wilf, John rested his head on Rose’s knee. Her fingers itched to run through his hair, so much so she lost track of the conversation.

How would he react if she were to touch him? She’d let her fingers drift through his thick brown hair, maybe slide down the column of his neck, graze his jaw… 

Rose shook herself out of her reverie. She scanned her new friends to make sure no one had guessed her inappropriate thoughts. She expected a leer from Jack or a knowing smirk from Donna, what she saw instead were wrinkled brows, lips bites, fidgeting fingers and stiff necks. She realized there had been something forced about their cheerfulness and eagerness to drink. Something unspoken: they may be infected and sick. And perhaps it’s that shadow they refused to acknowledge that led to a game of “truth or dare.”

Excitement crackled in the air. The first dares were innocent enough: a shot of ancient alcohol, licking one’s elbow, flossing (the dance, not teeth cleaning, and Martha was amazing at it) as were the truths: an embarrassing secondary school memory (Rose’s emo phase), a secret hook-up with a coworker (Donna with Lee from entomology).

“Truth,” John said.

“Why do you leave the country every Christmas?” Donna asked.

Rose felt him stiffen against her leg.

She tilted her head, eyebrows furrowed. “Every year?” she repeated.

“Except this year, because of this—” He gesticulated wildly— “this thing. Because of you, Jack. Now’s _your_ time to tell the truth: it’s not just an ordinary Megaloceros, is it?” 

Jack sighed. “You’re still thinking about that? Oh, alright, the paleontologists thought it might be a hybrid or mutation of a more recent genus, that’s why they sent it to the lab for testing.”

John sprang to his feet, eyes bright like a kid on Christmas. Martha cheered too. 

“A hybrid? Patterns of migration overlapping, species cross-breeding! Causing a mutation passed down generations until—” He wobbled drunkenly on his feet. 

Rose stood up to steady him, but she was just as tipsy. Her head swam. She grabbed John’s arms for support as he grabbed her shoulders, and they collapsed together on the couch.

“Ow, I’m seeing stars,” he said.

Rose couldn’t stop laughing and much less straighten up. Tears of laughter ran down her cheeks. John managed to sit down first and simply tugged Rose so she would sit across his lap. Perhaps it was the alcohol, but heat swirled in her belly as his hand settled on her hip. She glanced at him, shyly, but he was all smiles and small talk. He was almost too cool about it.

“My turn,” Jack declared. He pulled a sprig of mistletoe from god knows where and dangled it over their heads. “I dare you to kiss Rose.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffie, I won't make you wait long, but I couldn't resist seeing your reactions. I'm sure some of you guessed it was coming, but what will happen next?


	7. Shiny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who commented with what they thought would happen after Jack's dare. I enjoy reading your speculations. :D

_“My turn,” Jack declared. He pulled a sprig of mistletoe from god knows where and dangled it over their heads. “I dare you to kiss Rose.”_

They both laughed nervously, but blushing cheeks and quick glances betrayed their careful willingness.

Everyone turned silent and a tension filled the air.

Although she very much wanted a kiss from John, she wasn’t sure she wanted it like this, as a dare. She would always wonder whether he really meant it. But what if this was her only chance?

Rose gathered her courage and pecked John’s cheek.

“None of that PG-13 rubbish,” Jack said, “a proper snog.”

John looked at her, unsure at first, then his gaze softened, and he smiled. 

Rose’s breath caught in her throat. She licked her lips.

He giggled. “Shiny.”

“Shiny?”

He caught something beside her head. At first she thought it might be a fly, but he kept grasping at the air with both hands.

“You’re hallucinating, aren’t you?” She inspected his eyes, his pupils were blown wide. “Yep, antibiotic side effect, high as a kite.”

Both a sigh and laughter passed her lips as she shook her head.

“Time to tuck you in, big guy. But first…” Jack photographed John with his phone, laughed at the result, then hauled him off the couch.

She and Jack carried him down the stairs, giggling all the way at their friend’s incoherent babbling. Once on the floor, the Doctor launched into a hunt for the shiny objects of his hallucinations. 

From the gallery, Donna and Martha watched Rose and Jack chase after the Doctor between the work stations and across the examination area like a game of Pacman.

“Bloody hell he’s fast,” Jack said. “Damn long legs.”

Rose opted for a different tactic, “They’re in here,” she called, opening the door to his office.

John ran in her direction, entered his office, and Rose shut the door behind them. Thankfully, the chase had exhausted him. She coaxed him into a sleeping bag. 

“Ok, you need to rest now. Sleep well.”

“Don’t go.” He grabbed her hand. “Stay with me, please. Look at the stars.”

She couldn’t resist his big, pleading eyes.

She lay on the floor beside him, holding his hand, and pretended to see the same night sky he did. Awe coloured his face as he pointed to the Medusa Cascade and the Kasterborous constellation (which she was pretty sure came from some sci-fi show).

“We should get out of the museum more,” he said.

There was something so open and vulnerable about him at that moment. She thought of all the layers under which people hide to protect themselves. If only they didn’t need substances or special occasions to shed them. If only she could let John see the girl she was before Jimmy Stones. 

Martha cracked open the door.

“How is he?” 

Rose put a finger across her lips. John had just fallen asleep. She carefully extricated her hand from his grasp. And, with a pinch to her heart, she glanced one last time at his daft, smiling, sleepy face.

“D’you think he’ll be alright? It’s only the antibiotics, not the thing in the bone, right?” she asked Martha outside the office.

“More likely it’s the medicine. He needs to sleep it off. C’mon, we’re settling in Donna’s office.”


	8. At night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is asleep, except John and Rose (cue sad backstory time)

The laboratory was completely silent except for the constant and forgettable hum of refrigerators. Everyone was asleep. Except John. He liked the lab at night, when the blue glow of the central column made everything look like they were underwater.

Eye to the microscope, he was examining the probable cause of their unfortunate situation.

The muted sound of bare feet on concrete made him look up.

Rose yawned and rubbed her eyes as she crossed the lab. She went into the bathroom and came out a minute later with a glass of water, and only then did she notice him. She smiled at him, a slow, sleepy smile, that made him sigh.

“Hello,” she said, keeping her voice low.

“Hello.”

She pulled self-consciously on the hem of the large Dino Store T-shirt she was wearing. John himself was only in his pants and button-down shirt now they were dry.

“How are you feeling?” she asked. “Still hallucinating?”

She explained he’d experienced side effects of the antibiotics, and had had to be carried downstairs. He had absolutely no recollection of that. 

“You don’t even remember Jack’s dare?” she asked.

“Nope. What was it?”

“I— I don’t remember either. Something daft, I’m sure.” She averted her gaze and changed the subject. “So, whatcha lookin’ at?”

He scooted away— but not too far away— to let her look into the microscope herself. 

As she leaned over the lens, a strand of hair fell from her braid, over her face. Without thinking, he tucked it behind her ear. She straightened up, surprised.

“Sorry,” he said, retracting his hand as if burned.

“I don’t mind.”

She held his gaze for a moment, challenging him yet hesitating too.

He did it again, unnecessarily. His fingertips brushed along her forehead, swept behind her ear and grazed her jaw, and there she leaned lightly into his touch.

His heart clenched in his chest.

“Anthrax,” he blurted out.

“… What?”

He pushed himself away from the microscope, rolling on the wheeled stool to the opposite desk. He pointed at a picture on the monitor that looked like bits of pink string.

“The unidentified particles, I think it might be anthrax spores.”

Rose joined him by sending herself rolling too.

“Isn’t that what terrorists sent in the mail?”

“Yes, but it existed well before it became famous for that. It’s a common disease of livestock. When infected animals die, sometimes their carcasses get trapped under a layer of permafrost. It’s the perfect place for bacteria to remain alive for very long periods of time.”

He went on to talk about a remote village in Siberia infected three years ago, and NASA scientists reviving 32,000-year-old bacteria from a frozen pond in Alaska. 

“That’s the same age as the Megaloceros. The ice is a veritable Pandora’s Box of ancient viruses.”

Rose stopped his babbling with a hand on his arm.

“I’m vaccinated,” he said, “as is Martha. We have to be, in the lab.”

“Jack and Donna?”

“Jack, probably. Donna isn’t, lab managers don’t handle specimens. But you were the closest to it, Rose. And inhaled anthrax is more difficult to treat. It can be fatal. I shouldn’t have let you near me.”

She tried to protest, but her throat itched, and she coughed instead.

John’s eyes widened. “I can’t lose someone else on Christmas Eve.”

She drank from her glass of water. “Just a frog in my throat. You won’t lose me, Doctor.” She tried levity. “Certainly not before I open my Christmas gifts.”

She stroked his arm, and then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, they hugged. And he felt something yield inside of him. He held on to her, longer than appropriate with a friend, and only reluctantly parted from her embrace. He could have held her close all night.

He cleared his throat. “Happy Christmas.” 

“Wait, what do you mean, ‘someone else’?” she asked.

He hadn’t realized he’d said it out loud.

He ignored her question and returned to the microscope, but she gently insisted.

He ran a hand through his hair only to have the fringe flop back on his forehead. Rose brushed it aside as he had done for her.

The last of his defenses crumbled. 

“My parents died on Christmas Eve. It was a long time ago.”

“Blimey. An accident?”

“Part of an overpass fell on the car… The radio somehow kept playing. Christmas songs, on and on, until EMTs arrived.”

“Oh god, you were in the car too. How old were you?”

“Eleven.”

Rose held his hand. He rarely spoke about his parents. Every time, grief resurfaced with a strength that surprised him. He’d already revealed more than he liked, but her silent support kept him talking.

“I was already too old to believe in Santa Claus, but… they were in intensive care for a long time. I thought surely there would be a Christmas miracle.”

“Oh, John. And after?… Did you have family?”

He shook his head. “Foster care… then I was on my own, and then, here, my— well, this team.”

A tear rolled down Rose’s cheek; she wiped it with the back of her hand. “Now I understand why you don’t like the holidays.”

“As soon as I hear the first Christmas song on the radio…” He let out a big whoosh of breath. “The foster families, they’d always try to do something special for us orphans, but I could never get into it.”

“Of course not. Feels like there’s always something missing, doesn’t it?” Rose whispered.

“Yeah.”

“My dad, he was killed by a drunk driver, a hit-and-run. I was just a baby. Dunno if that’s better or worse than if I’d known him.”

They looked at each other, sharing an understanding few people did.

John ran a hand down his face, over his red-rimmed eyes and unshaven cheeks.

“Nothing like childhood trauma for a bit of cheer on Christmas Eve.”

Rose chuckled.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t blame you, John, not at all, for the lockdown and everything. None of it’s your fault.”

After talking about his parents, it’s those words from her that nearly made him cry. He swallowed around the lump in his throat. Trying to put on a brave face, he raised his chin.

“You should go back to sleep. Get some rest.”

“You think I’ll be able to sleep knowing I’ve snorted anthrax? But you, you should rest, after those side effects.”

“Not until I’ve identified this.”

“How sure are you it’s anthrax?”

“Weelll, I’m a genius, but bacteriology is not quite my field of expertise.”

“So, you don’t know.”

“It’s an educated guess. I’m surprisingly successful at guessing.”

“Okay, so, say you guessed right, then what? You can’t make up a cure in here, can you?”

“A real glass half-full girl, you are.”

“Sorry… But if one of us is sick, then maybe the best thing you can do to help is make sure we have a good time.”

“What do you have in mind?”


	9. Deck the lab

John’s nose wrinkled. "Decorating?"

The sun would be up in an hour or two, and so would their friends, giving Rose and John ample time to prepare a festive breakfast.

Mindful of John’s discomfort with the holidays, Rose only wished for his permission to decorate the lab. However, when scientific applications occurred to him, he got into it despite himself. 

From the corner of her eyes, she watched with curiosity as John filled test tubes with ferric ammonium sulfate and water.

"Watch this."

He grinned at her as he added a chemical, and the liquid turned red. He added another substance to the other half of the vials, which turned green. Rose clapped her hands. He explained the chemical reaction behind the colour change.

"You should teach, you make science fun."

Affixed to a stand with clamps, the test tubes made a lovely centerpiece. Rose blew up green latex gloves and stacked them in a pyramid so as to resemble a fir tree. She added a foil star on top. They fashioned bows and garlands out of red incident tape to decorate the walls.

"All we need now is snow," Rose commented.

None had fallen over London yet.

John nodded pensively, then his whole face brightened. "Sodium polyacrylate!"

"Poly— what?"

He dashed to the janitor closet. He pulled out something that looked like huge nappies. They were super-absorbent pads, used in case of dangerous spills. He ripped the lining and emptied the powder from inside it into a large container. Mixed with water, it looked like artificial snow. Laughing, they sprinkled it all over their makeshift decorations.

Rose prepared a pot of coffee, its rich aroma swirled in the air. Standing in the gallery, in little more than their underwear, they sipped coffee in companionable silence, surveying their creations. 

The sun rose over foggy London. Its first rays streamed through plumes of frost on the windows, splitting light into patches of rainbow all over the lab.

Rose bumped John lightly with her shoulder, and they smiled at each other.

A few peaceful minutes later, their friends came out of the offices where they’d slept, bleary eyed and yawning. Noticing the decorations, they stopped in their tracks, at the top of the stairs.

Donna looked around incredulously. "What's happened?" 

"Are you still high?" Martha asked John. 

"I smell coffee," Jack added, perking up.

Rose and John showed them around, explaining how they'd made everything.

"Did you sleep at all?" Martha inquired.

Donna couldn’t help but think of the inventory and expense report she would have to fill for this. But then she cheered up. “Well, if we can decorate now….” She went into her office and came back with a plastic box full of decorations she kept hidden from John.

Jack had a Bluetooth speaker and “the _ultimate_ holiday playlist,” according to himself.

When the first notes of “All I Want for Christmas Is You” came up, John’s fists clenched. Rose looped her arm through his, and he relaxed.

They laughed at John’s hallucinations while eating toasts and bananas. 

After the second pot of coffee, two people from Kate Stewart’s team, still wearing hazmat suits, brought them more food. 

They couldn't tell them anything about the pathogen, only that tests were still being done. They took X-rays of Rose and John's chests since they had been standing close enough to inhale whatever was in the bones. They drew everyone’s blood again to check for antibodies.

"If they haven't identified it yet, it must be something very rare with no cure," Donna said.

"Or it's nothing at all which is why they can't identify it. A long process of elimination," Jack suggested.

Christmas cheer could only push the fear away for so long. Anthrax, John had said, and that word scared Rose.

They fell silent until Martha exclaimed, “I'll go barmy with nothing to do but wait.”

Donna suggested a Secret Santa gift exchange: they would each draw someone else's name and make them a gift using materials available in the laboratory. That should keep them busy for a while. She wrote their names on pieces of paper and put them in a cup. And perhaps Donna and Jack had something to do with Rose and John drawing each other's names.


	10. Visitors and new friends

“What are you doing?” Donna asked, looking over his shoulder.

John was hunched over a Petri dish. With a fine tool, he poked at a gelatinous substance in it.

“Are you working? You’re supposed to be making a gift,” Donna chided, fists on her hips.

“I’m trying to arrange this into the shape of Africa.” He glanced at a monitor displaying a map of the world and returned to his creation. “Madagascar is giving me trouble.”

He’d done stranger things before; still, Donna had to ask. “Why?”

“I’m recreating a map. For a gift. It lights up under UV light, see.” He shined a special torch over it, revealing vaguely Africa-shaped fractal patterns in fluorescent pink and blue. “I’ll take a picture of it and print it as a poster.”

“Nice.”

“It’s not done yet,” he said, returning to work. He kept talking, eyes on the Petri dish. “It’s quite clever, if I do say so myself; microscopic elements recreating our great, big planet. Like human life, eighty-odd years, but it’s about the little things: a favourite toy, a beautiful sunset, a smile, a hand to hold… When I’m lost in the four billion years of our history, Rose reminds me of the little things. And when I’m too focused on the details, she helps me see the big picture… She says she wants to travel and see the world, ergo— You’re looking at me funny.”

Donna shook her head fondly.

“You, dumbo. You, great, big dumbo.”

“What?”

“You’re in love with Rose.”

John looked away, mumbling something about the pineal gland.

She swivelled his chair so he’d face her again. She tilted her head to look him in the eyes; there would be no more jokes or friendly insults.

“You know that feeling in your chest when you see her? It means you should let her in. You deserve to be happy John.”

“What if she gets sick because of me?”

“It’s not your love that’s attacking her immune system.”

John remained silent, a rare occurence.

Martha poked her head in. “Donna, your granddad’s here.”

* * *

The Darwin Center had been designed to let visitors to the Museum actually see the research taking place there with glass walls all along one side of the laboratories. On the 24th, the Museum was closed but Kate Stewart had arranged for families and friends to visit the quarantined gang, as long as they stayed on the visitor side of the windows.

Wilfred waved at Donna and John. The felt antlers on his head jiggled with his movements. He’d come by bus with his pensioner friends. They called themselves the “Silver Cloak” and couldn’t resist the drama of a locked-down laboratory. They’d also brought homemade fudge, shortbread and macaroons. The security guard agreed to pass them on (helping himself to a piece as he did so).

John noticed Rose’s visitors. Her mother was adamant they could sue the Museum for this. A young man accompanied her: Mickey, the bloke Rose talked to on the phone so often these days. 

“Isn’t that right, Doctor?” Donna said, elbowing him.

He agreed though he had no idea what they were talking about, whatever it was, Wilfred seemed reassured.

Martha’s mother and father visited separately. A group of Jack’s friends came by, too.

The visitors brought toothbrushes and clean clothes, and treats to tide them over. As no one in the lab had developed symptoms, they allowed themselves to be optimistic.

* * *

In a corner of the lab, Martha was working on her secret present.

“Hey there,” Rose said to signal her presence. “Cuppa?”

Martha covered her work and waved Rose closer.

“My mate Mickey, he saw you in the lab and asked me to give you his number.” Rose handed her a Post-it note. “You don’t have to call him, but he’s a good lad.”

“Ok. Thanks.”

Out of all her new friends, Martha was the coldest toward Rose. She wasn’t rude in any way, simply more distant.

Rose rocked back and forth on her heels.

“Any wish for next year?” she tried.

“I applied for jobs in a couple of other labs— even one in South Africa.” Martha hesitated, then offered Rose a seat at the desk next to hers. “There’s also a team working on a site in Aberdeenshire, Jack says I’d be a good fit there. I just hope to get hired elsewhere after I graduate.”

“That’s brilliant! Good luck. But why don’t you want to keep working here? It’s amazing.”

“I just want to try something new. What about you? What are your wishes for the new year?”

Rose shrugged. She hadn’t really thought about it. 

“Money would be a good start.”

Money to get out of her mum’s flat and start her own life. Money to go back to school. She’d like to study something that would employ her at the Museum.

“I’m sure Dr. Smith would hire you in a heartbeat,” Martha said with a hint of resentment in her voice. “He _really_ likes you.”

Warmth bloomed in Rose’s chest at those words, but she denied it to spare Martha’s feelings.

“No, we’re just friends. Anyway, I won’t owe my job to a bloke ever again.”

Martha gave her a curious look, she wanted to know more but didn’t want to pry.

“My ex. He was— well, wanted to be— a rock star.”

“Oh oh.”

“Yeah, I should’ve known right there and then.”

The girls laughed knowingly. 

“So what was your job?”

“I was his manager, sort of,” Rose said. “Jimmy would still be busking on the street if it weren’t for me. I did everything I could for his career. Then he ran off with my share of the money.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Martha said.

“It’s for the best. I was finally free of him.” Rose paused and sipped her tea. “I was bending myself out of shape to be someone I wasn’t, you know, his ideal girlfriend. Whilst he made no efforts at all, and in the end it never changed his feelings. I wasn’t special to him— I was useful. I can see that now.”

“I know what you mean,” Martha said.

Rose knew from Donna that Martha was infatuated with John, but that’s not what she talked about. She told Rose about her family’s expectation, and how trapped she felt between her father, her mother and her siblings. No matter how hard she tried, she could never please all of them. She’d spent so much time trying, she’d forgotten to please herself. 

“We deserve better,” Rose summed up.

Martha agreed and raised her cup of tea for a toast. “To making our own dreams come true.”

They clanked cuppas.

“Now, tell me more about this Mickey.”


	11. Secret Santa

In the afternoon, there was a thrill in the air as they gathered in the gallery, dressed to the nines, back in their party outfits. Everyone put their lab-made gifts, wrapped in printer sheets, toilet paper and T-shirts, under the latex-glove Christmas tree. The conference table was now decked out with origami stars and Bunsen burners in lieu of candlesticks. Sweets and pastries brought by their families were laid out like a buffet. A video of a crackling fireplace looped on a large monitor.

As they ate, they chatted animatedly and played parlour games.

John was uncharacteristically quieter than the others. He took in the sight of his friends, smiling and laughing. For years he had dreaded the holidays, making excuses to avoid parties and leave the country. Although a sharp hole remained in his heart for his family, and he still worried about his friends’ health, in this moment, he let himself feel content.

Jack wore his velvet jacket again, and with a surprisingly suggestive, “Ho, ho, ho,” launched the Secret Santa exchange.

He picked the first gift. “This one is for Martha. Have you been a good girl this year?”

“Of course, Santa.” She batted her eyelashes innocently.

The gift was a beautiful necklace. The beads were made from the modelling clay they used for impromptu casts or models of specimens. Some were stamped with intricate patterns, others painted in earth tones.

She scanned her friends to identify the crafter among them.

“Donna? Wow, I didn’t know you had so much talent.”

Donna shrugged off the compliment and hugged her friend.

In return, Martha gave the present she made to Jack. She’d bottled some of her lab-brewed alcohol and named it after him— _Harkness’ Best_ — complete with a bespoke label.

Santa Jack picked another present. “For John.” He patted his thighs with a cheeky grin.

Trying to wrestle the gift out of Jack’s grasp, John ended up on the other man’s knees anyway. He made a show of rolling his eyes and sighing in defeat, then smooched Jack right on the lips. They all burst out laughing at the sight of Jack’s astonished face.

As John opened his gift, there was a flutter in his stomach, reminiscent of Christmases past.

The newsprint wrapping held a stack of personalized vouchers, hand drawn on card stock and stapled together. He recognized Rose’s handwriting.

The flutter increased.

His friends all grew strangely quiet and attentive.

“ _This voucher entitles the holder to: interrupt one (1) customer, ask one (1) rude question, receive one(1) piece of advice on human relationships, ten (10) minutes of ranting on a subject of his choice._ ”

John scratched the back of his head. “Guess I’ve been annoying you at the shop, haven’t I?”

“No! I wouldn’t give you those if it bothered me. I love it when you come by.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Keep reading.”

Watching him, Rose bit her lower lip.

“ _This voucher entitles the holder to: company when working late, tea and cake at the cafeteria.”_ And the last one, vague yet promising, _“one (1) activity of his choice outside the museum._ ”

He stared at it, heat rising to his cheeks. Date ideas flashed through his mind, but he toned down his imagination.

“Thank you,” he said simply.

“Not at all.”

Awkwardly, he kissed her cheek.

“And this one is for Rose,” Jack interrupted. “Who might it be from?”

John tugged on his earlobe and stepped back.

Rose peeled away the foil and, inside a box, she found an intricately knapped spearhead. She looked at John. She recognized it from his private collection.

Rose smiled politely.

“You can get a good price for it,” he explained.

It’s what she needed, wasn’t it? Then why did he feel like a coward?

Donna slapped him on the shoulder. “Dumbo.”

He and Rose exchanged a short hug. He hated the sudden coldness between them that he couldn’t explain or undo.

Jack dispelled the tension by declaring it was time for his gift to Donna. He crooked his index finger at her, and, with a flourish, revealed a sprig of mistletoe.

The sight of it jogged John’s memory.

The dare.

Oh, no.

He’d almost kissed Rose.

Oh, wait.

She had almost kissed him too.

He glanced at her. Their eyes met, and a jolt ran through his heart. He looked away quickly. The sight of Donna nearly sucking Jack’s soul through his mouth was only slightly less uncomfortable.


	12. Freed

The click of doors unlocking interrupted their celebration and made everyone run to the railing to watch the entrance below. Kate Stewart entered the laboratory. She wasn’t wearing a hazmat suit, which must mean….

“You’re safe,” she declared.

Palpable relief washed over the group.

Rose’s stomach untangled. She covered her mouth with her hand, laughing shakily. She had to call her mum. She turned to John, he was all loud cheers and big grin. He grabbed Rose around the waist in a hug that lifted her off the floor. When he put her back down, his hands lingered at her waist, and hers on his shoulders.

Kate joined them up in the gallery. She gave some scientific information they all seemed to understand except Rose. She gathered the substance was not harmful to humans.

Kate handed them an information sheet. “Just in case, be on the lookout for symptoms on this list. Call the number at the bottom if you have any concerns.”

Jack was out the door before she’d even finished talking. Martha, Donna and John left in different directions, to call relatives or pick up their coats and keys.

Rose should have hurried outside too, but she dawdled, feeling oddly nostalgic. She shut down the monitor and covered the leftover food with plastic wrap.

She was aware of John’s spearhead left on the corner of the table, but couldn’t look at it. She felt bad for disliking it. She appreciated its monetary value, if not its sentimental one. She wished he hadn’t just picked something off his shelf; her gift dealt with in an efficient manner, then dismissed. 

Donna carried Rose’s backpack from her office and up the stairs. She had something else in her hand, too.

“I thought you should know, this is what John was going to give you.”

Donna unrolled a poster with a beautiful map of the world in neon colours. She explained how he’d made it using UV light and special proteins.

It was perfect, bright and creative and just so special. Yet it only added to Rose’s frustration.

“I don’t know why he changed his mind. He really likes you, Rose.”

“But not enough to tell me himself.”

“Or so much it scares him.”

“Well, he knows where to find me if he needs help with that _too_.” She sighed, regretting her snark. She was tired. “I suppose it’s because of what happened to his parents.”

“What about them?”

He hadn’t confided in Donna, but he had in her. Maybe that meant something. And yet, Rose couldn’t help but remember once again how she’d fooled herself into believing Jimmy’s behaviour meant more than it did.

From the gallery, Rose could see across the lab, down into John’s office. He was still there, talking on the phone. Her heart softened for him, as it always did. Perhaps, for once, she should be the one going to him. In her determination to not misread any signals, she’d forgotten to send out her own.

* * *

As she approached the Doctor’s office, she overheard his conversation with the airline.

“Were you able to book another flight?” she asked after he’d hung up.

“Yes. Later tonight.” He hesitated. “The Mendoza team is counting on me. I can’t let them down.”

“Hey, you don’t need to explain yourself to me. I go out of my way to avoid the street where my dad was killed.”

He nodded and offered a sympathetic smile.

“It’s important work I’m doing every year. I’m helping out labs with less means to preserve their own history.”

“I believe you. I’ll see you in three weeks, then. Drop by the shop as soon as you can. I fully expect you to use those vouchers.”

“I don’t know,” he joked, “maybe if you sweeten the deal with your employee discount.”

“I think that could be arranged.”

“Good. Looking forward to it.”

“Me too.”

Rose shuffled her feet and wrung her hands. John rearranged random items on his messy desk.

“I think I need your help,” she stammered.

“Yes, of course! What do you need? What can I do?”

“I’m not quite sure how to get money out of this.” She held out the spearhead.

John sprang to action. He sent her links to trusted auction sites, wrote a description of the item for her and hunted down the original authenticity certificate. She had to stop him when he got trapped, elbow-deep in a filing cabinet.

“It’s okay. It can wait.”

“But if you get the money now, you might be able to enroll in time for the winter semester.”

Rose narrowed her eyes at him.

“Did you listen to my conversation with Martha?”

“Er, well, I wasn’t listening so much as voices accidentally reached my ears.”

“Right.”

He sat on the edge of his desk, his long legs stretched in front of him and crossed at the ankle.

“I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to,” he added.

“S’alright. Explains a lot actually.”

“Listen, I know some professors and uni administrators and how to get financial aid.”

“You would help me?”

“Absolutely.”

“And if university isn’t what I want? I mean, I haven’t even got my A-levels.”

He shrugged. “You deserve all your dreams to come true, whatever they are. You’re brilliant, Rose.”

No one had ever said that to her. Not this earnestly.

A lump rose in her throat.

Before she’d found something to say, he offered to walk her home.

“I live in Peckham. That’d be quite a walk.”

“Don’t care.”

* * *

Fresh air welcomed them outside the Museum. Rose breathed in deeply, cold tickled her nostrils. It felt like they’d been trapped inside for years. Early dusk painted the sky a soft lavender, and fluffy snowflakes drifted down over them.

After a few steps, John took Rose’s gloved hand. She smiled and tightened her fingers over his. They laughed shyly for no other reason than the sheer pleasure of having their affection reciprocated.

In front of the Museum’s ice rink, John babbled on about bronze-age skates made from animal shins and references to skiing found in writings of the Han dynasty, in China. Joined hands swinging between them, they laughed more than the fun facts warranted. Their hearts felt as light as the snowflakes floating down from the sky. Simply put, they were utterly giddy. 

They strolled down a quiet street. Decorations twinkled in windows and relatives greeted each other at the door. 

John’s pace slowed down, his gaze turned inward and unfocused.

“I think I might call my former foster family,” he said at last, glancing at Rose for approval.

“Sounds like a great idea. You were close to them?”

He nodded. “The last ones I lived with, they really encouraged me to study. I even had a sister, of sort, Sarah Jane.” He smiled at the memory. “She was a Smith too. We used to pretend we were real siblings… I should’ve kept in touch.”

“Never too late for that.”

They passed by a tube station without stopping. Street lights switched on, one after the other, as if only for them. They would have to part ways soon. It was a long ride to cousin Mo’s house, and he had a flight to catch.

At the gate of a quiet garden square, Rose stopped walking. They still held hands, and she fiddled with the cuff of his jacket.

“You remembered Jack’s dare, didn’t you?” she asked him.

“Uh, vaguely. Well, most of it. Where was he keeping that mistletoe?”

Rose waited a beat, but he didn’t say anything else.

“John, you know what you were saying about helping make my dreams come true?”

“Yeah?”

He stepped closer. Her breath quickened. She bit her bottom lip, and his gaze flicked to her mouth.

“Well, maybe there’s a dream you, uh, you could…”

“What?” His face split into a grin. He clicked his jaw. He knew full well what she was trying to say.

“You could kiss me. Shut up.”

She looked away, but John’s hand on her cheek brought her eyes back to him. He opened his mouth, probably to say something smart-arse again. Instead, Rose grabbed his scarf and pulled him down to her. Cold nose tips met pink cheeks. He laughed against her lips. Their arms wrapped around each other, bringing their bodies together, as close as their winter coats allowed.

Rose forgot the cold and the passersby, she forgot it was Christmas Eve. Her hand in his hair knocked off his beanie. A tiny whimper came from the back of his throat, and she found herself with her back to the garden gate being thoroughly kissed. It was probably a good thing they were wearing so many layers.

When they broke the kiss, he rested his forehead on hers. The clouds on their breath mingled.

“Now I regret booking another flight,” John whispered.

“You’d better not forget me whilst you’re gone, mister.” She poked him in the chest playfully.

“Haven’t stopped thinking about you since the day we met— I doubt I will after that kiss.”

“Let’s give you plenty to think about, then.” 

She rose to her tiptoes and kissed him again. An unforgettable kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. To those who commented as I updated: you are the wind beneath my wings ❤
> 
> This story is finished, but stay tuned for a bonus smutty chapter coming up during the holidays.
> 
> Thank you again Onthedrift for the beta. I ended up adding quite a few bits here and there, but it's her comments that helped me see the fic with fresh eyes and improve it.


	13. Bonus chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Rose find themselves together in a shower again.

_One year later_

From the street, Rose looked up at the window of John’s flat. The only Christmas decoration he’d allowed— a string of white LED snowflakes— blinked in the early twilight. Although the holiday season still brought forth painful souvenirs, he was making room in his memory for better, happier ones. Sarah Jane had come over for a festive supper last night with her son Luke (John was over the moon about getting called “uncle John”), and they would attend the staff party at the Museum tonight (on one condition: Rose wore the same sexy dress as last year). He hadn’t agreed yet to accompany her to cousin Mo’s party, and Rose wouldn’t insist.

She climbed the stairs quickly, dropped her school bag by the door and sank down on the blue couch, letting out a huge breath.

“It’s done,” she said.

John pulled his head out of the fridge, “How did the exam go?”

“It went well, I think.”

“Of course, it did.” He grinned at her over the refrigerator door. “You’ve got your A-levels!”

“If I haven’t failed any of the exams.”

“None of that,” he chided her.

John plopped down on the couch, holding a tub of leftover chocolate mousse. Rose had barely had time to appreciate it last night, having to rush back to her books to study after the meal. He fed her a bite and ate one himself. She rested her head on his shoulder, and sighed contentedly as chocolate melted on her tongue.

Although being over 21 years old, she didn’t need her A-levels to enroll at a university, taking them had seemed like a gentler transition from retail to academia. Judging by her stress of the last weeks, she had been right to do so. But now, as she snuggled with her boyfriend, tension slowly drained out of her muscles.

“Thank you,” she said, “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

John smiled at her, not that manic grin of his, but with something almost beatific to the curve of his lips. He admired her with heavy-lidded eyes. She wanted to both hide from and bask in that soft gaze. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” she said good-humoredly.

“How else am I supposed to look at the woman I love?”

Their relationship had evolved slowly over the year. John had been on his own since he was eighteen, and Rose had been badly hurt, and one heated kiss on Christmas eve couldn’t resolve all that. But now, he’d stopped fretting when she spent more than two nights at his flat, and she’d stopped interpreting moments of silence as punishment. I-love-yous came easily and they shared a whole conversation with just a glance. He was her boyfriend, her lover and her best friend, and she refused to listen to the little voice in her head that told her it was too good to be true.

Rose kissed him. With exams now off her mind, she could fully sink into the feeling of his mouth on hers. A delicious warmth spread through her body. Her lips parted against his, and they moved together, leisurely, savouring the moment. Until her tongue teased him, that is. He fumbled to put the cake down somewhere without breaking the kiss. As soon as his hands were freed, they found her waist. A small, keening sound escaped her throat. Savouring gave way to devouring. Rose straddled his legs.

A series of insistent pings interrupted their kiss. With a sigh, John reached for his phone, but Rose remained in his lap. Several text messages from Donna reminded them to avoid the lab at all costs before the party. For the first time since he’d begun working at the Museum, John had agreed to pop in (he hadn’t committed to staying until the end), and Donna wasn’t giving him a chance to renege on his engagement. She had invited them, as well as Jack, Martha and Mickey, to her place for drinks and tapas beforehand. 

“ _Where are you?_ ” Donna texted. “ _If you even think about not coming, I swear to god you can kiss your new spectrometer goodbye_.”

He typed a quick reply with one hand, the other still on Rose’s waist.

“Any regrets about staying in London for the holidays this year?” Rose asked.

“I can still book a last-minute flight if your mother decides to cook.”

“Oi!” She slapped his chest playfully.

He cracked a smile, then turned serious. He rubbed his hands up and down her thighs.

“I was thinking, maybe next year, you could come with me, if you want.”

“On a trip? With you?”

He shrugged. “Yeah.”

“I’d love it!”

She cupped his face for a big smooch, putting all her joy and excitement into it. His hands wandered to her bum, sending a thrill up her spine. 

“We should get prepared,” he said half-heartedly.

Rose nodded, and yet the kiss escalated to something more demanding. Every caress of his lips reverberated between her legs.

“Rose, if you keep running your fingers through my hair like that I won’t be held responsible if we’re late to the party.”

“Is that so?”

Kissing his neck, she ran her fingers through his hair again. A small moan escaped his lips. She had meant it as a joke, but found she couldn’t stop herself. His cologne smelled too good and his heart sped up in his chest beneath her palms. Unfortunately, knowing they were expected somewhere else worried her.

“You’re right, we’ll be late.”

She started getting up, but John grabbed her around the waist.

“No, I’m not right. I’m wrong. Never been more wrong in my life.”

“I can think of a few other times you were wrong.”

He shut her up with a kiss. She chuckled and let him trap her on his knees. They continued making out. His hand slipped under her t-shirt, raising goosebumps in its wake, until it met her breast. He sought her nipple hardening under the thin lace of her bra. Her hips snapped, meeting his groin. He hissed and tugged her closer.

“Fuck,” Rose muttered.

But it wasn’t a good “fuck”, it was a frustrated “fuck.”

“What?” he asked, distracted by undoing her bra clasp.

“I can’t stop thinking about how mad Donna will be.”

His arms dropped at his sides.

“I’d rather you didn’t think about my lab manager whilst making me hard.”

With her best sex kitten voice, Rose whispered in his ear, “If you think I’m making you hard now, wait ‘till we get back from the party.” She swiveled her hips.

He groaned. “Alright, but I have a feeling we’ll be leaving early.”

They kissed one last time and separated with a forlorn sigh.

Knowing she was doing the right thing didn’t help with the throbbing between her legs. As she undressed to take a shower, Rose kept thinking John could be the one doing that for her right now. The water running down her body only reminded her of his caresses. As she soaped up her chest, she thought she ought to relieve herself quickly or else she wouldn’t enjoy the party which led to thoughts of sneaking away from the reception to John’s office and bending over his desk... She bit her bottom lip to muffle a whimper.

“Rose, have you seen my grey shirt?”

She pulled the shower curtain aside to reply but was dumbstruck by his appearance. He was wearing only his trousers, unfastened and sitting low on his hips in the most tantalizing way. Her mouth went dry despite being in the shower.

“Have you?” he repeated.

“You know how Christmas is about traditions,” she said instead.

“Yeah?”

“And we should honour those traditions.” She pushed the shower curtain farther away from herself, revealing more of her wet and naked body.

John swallowed. If he’d been holding an ancient femur, he’d have dropped it again.

“Is this about baby Jesus, ‘cause I’m not sure now’s a good time to discuss religion,” he said, rather distracted by the sight before him.

“No, this is about our own tradition. Involving showers?”

His mouth curved into a grin, and he did that cocky thing with his jaw again. “And sharing said shower?”

“Now you’re getting it.”

He couldn’t have been faster out of these trousers.

When he joined her in the tub, she was already panting. She crossed her arms behind his neck and dragged him under the warm water. They immediately found each other’s mouth, ravenous and impatient. He touched her everywhere, unable to settle on a particular spot as she offered her whole body to him. 

Despite their good intentions, the separation had only stoked their arousal further.

John’s mobile rang, and they both ignored it. Rose’s mobile followed, an insistent ring coming from the other room.

“5 quid that’s Donna,” Rose said between kisses.

“What did I tell you about thinking about her when I’m like this?” he joked and pinched her bum. “Besides, that’s too easy. I might as well give you 5 quid right away.”

“Or you could pay me by doing that thing with your tongue.”

He stepped back, an eyebrow raised, his face a mix of mock outrage and admiration. “Rose Tyler!”

He looked her up and down, his appraising gaze turned heated. This time, his touch was measured. He spread his hands, wide and warm, over her waist, sliding them up to her breasts. Rose leaned into his touch.

“I will make sure you are _thoroughly_ decontaminated,” he said.

“Uhm...”

“That— that sounded sexier in my head.”

“Yeah, maybe just…”

“Get to it?”

“Yeah.”

They both laughed, but Rose’s laughter turned into a moan as his lips descended on her collarbone.

Fuck, but she loved this dork.

She recognized that hunger in him, the groans and open-mouth kisses over her breasts. His tongue tickled her ribs down to her stomach.

He knelt on the slippery floor and nipped the inside of her thighs. He sucked at the cushy flesh there, wet with more than water. His mouth trailed higher and higher. Rose put a feet up on the ledge of the tub to grant him better access. He chuckled at her impatience, but she could hardly stand the lust growing in her. At last, his hot tongue slithered between her lower lips. She threw her head back with a long, throaty moan.

He closed his eyes against the water running from his hair, drops caught in his eyelashes. His nose pressed to her pubic bone. His tongue delved deeper, seeking that nub that made her gasp. Her toes curled, and she moved her hips to meet his mouth. He stroked himself as he ate her and moaned when she grasped his hair.

Rose’s pleasure increased exponentially with every lick. She forgot about the staff party and Donna and the towels that needed changing. She slipped in that heavenly state where only their intimate connection mattered.

Her grip on his hair tightened. He wanked faster. He closed his lips over her clit, and she had to clutch the shower caddy.

“Oh, god! Don’t stop!”

But he did. 

“Wha’?”

He rose up in the steam. Rose swallowed hard at the intensity in his eyes. He palmed himself and smirked when her eyes followed the movement.

He was hard. So very hard for her. Every inch of him swollen with desire.

“Turn around,” he said, and she couldn’t resist his command.

Palms flat on the white tiles, she glanced at him over her shoulders. Ready. Eager. With one long hand, he pinned both her wrists to the wall. Rose’s knees buckled.

He trailed his other hand down her spine, and she arched under his touch, raising her hips, a whimper on her lips.

He glided his cock between her thighs, so very close to where she needed him, but withholding fulfillment.

“Jooohn,” she begged.

She felt him twitch against her inner thigh. At last, he pushed in her. He’d meant to go slowly, but she was more than ready for him. Her heat sucked him in, and she moved her hips to hurry the process. Twin gasps echoed in the shower. He paused to steady himself, but she deliberately clenched around him. His head dropped to her shoulder, and he mumbled curses.

“Sorry. I need you so bad.”

He thrust tentatively, drawing out and sliding back in to the hilt, eliciting long moans from them both.

He nuzzled the nape of her neck and kneaded her breast as if trying to get as close to her as possible. She luxuriated in their proximity, in their shared ardour of both body and heart.

“I’m so close already,” she mumbled.

It was all he needed to start hammering.

Rose’s voice was one continuous, incoherent babble, full of swears and praises, as John let loose. His short nails bit into her hip. His hair dripped down her back. The sounds of slapping skin filled the shower. The fingers he’d used to pin her wrists now twined with hers.

On the edge of bliss, Rose’s muscles tightened, her body taut and ready for just a bit more…

“Ah! Yes! Yes!”

Pleasure erupted from her core. Only John’s arm around her midriff kept her upright.

“Rose…?”

“Keep going.”

His last restraint snapped. He surrendered to his own pleasure. She wished she could see him, wild and blissful. As best as she could in this position, she wrapped an arm around his neck. When she felt his teeth at her shoulder, she came again. Her orgasm triggered his own. He pressed his pelvis to her bum, and groaned against her neck as he spilled in her. 

With their remaining force, they slid to the bottom of the bath.

“Fantastic tradition, Rose,” he said, out of breath. “I’m already looking forward to next year’s celebration.”

“In another shower, somewhere else in the world?”

“Anywhere you want, Rose. The first of many, many showers abroad.”


End file.
